at once made him sensible that he had himself been the object of their anxiety.
'There he is! there he is! God be thanked—there he is, hale and fear!' exclaimed the vassals; while the monks exclaimed, 'Te Deum laudamus—the blood of Thy servants is precious in Thy sight!'
'What is the matter, children? what is the matter, my brethren?' said Father Eustace, dismounting at the gate.
'Nay, brother, if thou know'st not, we will not tell thee till thou art in the refectory,' answered the monks; 'suffice it that the lord abbot had ordered these, our zealous and faithful vassals, instantly to set forth to guard thee from imminent peril. Ye may ungirth your horses, children, and dismiss; and to-morrow, each who was at this rendezvous may send to the convent kitehen for a quarter of a yard of roast beef, and a black-jack full of double ale.'[1]
The vassals dispersed with joyful acclamation, and the monks with equal jubilee conducted the sub-prior into the refectory.
Chapter X
Here we stand
Woundless and well, may Heaven's high name be bless'd for't!
As erst, ere treason couch'd a lance against us.
No sooner was the sub-prior hurried into the refectory by his rejoicing companions, than the first person on whom he fixed his eye proved to be Christie of the Clinthill. He was seated in the chimney-corner, fettered and guarded, his features drawn into that air of sulky and turbid resolution with which those hardened in guilt are accustomed to view the approach of punishment. But as the sub-prior drew near to him, his face assumed a more wild and startled
- ↑ It was one of the few reminiscences of Old Parr, or Henry Jenkins, I forget which, that at some convent in the veteran's neighbourhood the community, before the dissolution, used to dole out roast beef by the measure of feet and yards.
